


Upon Another Sunset

by Etheriei



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, mentions of Toru Moriya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-30 16:25:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etheriei/pseuds/Etheriei
Summary: After the bullet echoed through the air.**Major Character death because as far as Wato knows, Sherlock is dead... dead to this world. (not really)I wanted a cool title for this fic but after much thought I couldn't come up with anything better. Sorry for the lameness!First Watolock fic... I'm always nervous doing these type of pairings so hopefully it is ok.





	1. The World has Stolen my Sun.

The sound of the bullet ricocheted through my conscience. It felt as if it was dissecting my very being, piece by piece, while tearing through my mind. A dreadful feeling of emptiness engulfed me from every side. I couldn’t see in front of me as my eyes had become blood red and everything was just a blur of colours. I felt the rebound of the shot even though my hands had not moved from their position. It felt as if I had pulled the trigger and with those thoughts, I felt my heart plummet to a space so small and suffocating somewhere deep within my being. I could still feel Mariko’s presence in my consciousness warring for control over my weak mind. I felt her fingers digging into my shoulders and her breath sending tiny seismic vibrations down my body. I stared out into the blur that was my vision, desperately seeking for that face.

I couldn’t see. I felt my throat dry up as my mind processed what had just happened. _She was gone. YOU killed her_. I shuddered as these thoughts went through my mind.

Only a few seconds had passed.

And suddenly out of nowhere.

A tug.

 A breath of fresh air.

A gush of wind.

There was no breathing down my neck. No fingers digging deep into my skin. I felt disoriented. Lost and alone but yet not alone.

That’s when I heard her voice echoing through my tumultuous thoughts. She was not dead? How? I heard a scuffle and some signs of struggle.

I turned slightly so that I could see where the noises were coming from. She was there. Alive and smiling back at me.

I noticed a struggling figure in her arms. Sherlock’s arms were wrapped tightly around Mariko.

I stared at her in a haze while my consciousness warred with Mariko’s demons.

_Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock._

 I wanted to say her name. Call out. Reach out even, but my body would not obey me. So I stared back at her feeling completely useless. The gun felt like a heavy weight pulling me down with it.

“Wato” She called my name and smiled back at me with that childlike smile of hers I often had seen.  “You’ll be free now” And with those last words she turned around and dropped off the ledge, taking Mariko with her. I watched it all as if it was a surreal happening and ended up staring at the ground completely frozen.

I heard Reimon yelling Sherlock’s name and saw him rush towards the ledge barley missing me. I heard a thud and suddenly my mind was my own but with it came horrible memories and the latest knowledge of what had just occurred. I dropped the gun and walked to the ledge in a daze. None of this felt real. _How could it. It felt like I had been sleeping for the longest time but yet I had just seen Sherlock and she was gone? Dead along with Mariko. Dead because of me._ _That’s when it hit me, she had chosen this. She had done it for me_.

Sherlock. I screamed inwardly as I couldn’t find my voice yet. I was now right at the same ledge where they had just been.

“Sherlock” I called out. It hurt. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t live knowing that she had given up her life to save me. The last few weeks flashed before me. I watched as Moriya fell to the ground with a thud and saw Sherlock running away. I had felt anger but yet I never knew why nor did I get to ask her. I fell into the hands of Mariko and was put under a semi spell (totally and utterly hypnotized). I had no freedom of will. I did what I was told. Anger had turned into hate and I had found myself here. And now Mariko was gone and with her, Sherlock too. I had been told that it would make me happy but I knew those were all lies; I just couldn’t fight them. She was gone now leaving a very weak me behind. The anguish was too strong. The ache grew stronger and with it my cries grew louder and more hysterical.  Strong arms grabbed me and pulled me close. I fought to release myself but it was to no avail, I couldn’t win. I slumped against Reimon and we both fell to the ground. He was silent in his grieving while my body heaved in between screams and heavy breathing and gasps for breath. My screams echoed through the surroundings joining with the screams of the passerby’s who had witnessed the scene.

 

“SHERLOCK , SHERLOCK”  My voice was beginning to get hoarse but I mindlessly called out in hopes she would come back or that this horrible dream would shatter and I’d get to see her smile again. I felt parts of my heart disintegrate as I realized that I would never see her again. She was gone. For good now. _And it was all my fault_. The amazingly brilliant, though socially adept, detective. Gone were her witty comments and nonexistent manners. I didn’t want to think about it but my own mind was giving me no choice. I cried and cried not even feeling myself been picked up and carefully placed in a car. I fell into a fitful sleep full of nightmares. Nightmares of past and present. I saw the children I had failed to save all crying out to me. They were choking on their own blood. A new face was among them. One I would have never ever thought I would see in these dreams. But there she was looking sadly back at me. There was no accusation in her stare just a silent and sad plea in the way she looked back at me. I woke with a start.

And the events of the day played back as if it was a movie on replay. I grabbed my head trying to forcefully shut down the images that were invading my mind. My fingernails dug into my head but I didn’t stop. I wanted to erase it all as it was too painful but I couldn’t. I found myself on my own bed at 221B. I heard hurried footsteps but they even felt unreal. I tried to pull myself up out of the bed but fell back. My chest ached from all the sobbing I had done. And another panic attack/sobbing attack was on its way. I looked around like a frightened animal, searching desperately for clues that this was all just a horrible dream. Just as the fit started I felt gentle arms guide me into a warm hug. I clung to the figure I only knew was Mrs. Hatono because of her scent.

I felt my ribs pounding again. I gasped in pain in between each breathe. Mrs. Hatano was trying to soothe me by running her hands through my hair and whispering careful words in my ear. Eventually I calmed down and gave in to exhaustion even while still whispering her name.  The sleep I fell back into a was nothing but a fitful sleep.

 

When I next woke the sun was shining through the curtains and I heard the birds singing nearby. I could get up by myself gradually. I picked up my coat and put it on before walking to the kitchen. Just as I entered I was stopped by a worried Hatono.

 

“Wato” She said while gently placing her hand on my shoulder “ you should rest” She handed me a steaming hot cup of tea. I took it gratefully and went to sit in the lounge. I froze as I saw Sherlock’s empty chair. I was holding the cup so tightly that it broke and shattered on the wooden floors. I felt bad as I watched Mrs. Hatono clean up the remains of what had been a cup of tea. I couldn’t move try as I might. It was as if I was frozen in place. It was then that had this disconcerting feeling that I couldn’t stay here. I had tried. But 221 was not the same without Sherlock. It seemed dead. I missed her rude behavior and grumblings. I missed it all.

I told myself that night that the worst part of it all was that we had departed on such bad terms. She leaving forever but redeeming me in the process. I hated her for that. I didn’t deserve saving. I had given up hope and had lost faith in her. I had joined the real criminals and had grown to hate her thanks to them. I knew I never could really hate her but they had done a pretty good job of convincing me that I could and did. I wanted to tell her how I enjoyed working with her. I wanted to tell her that she was brilliant. I wanted to tell her that the koi didn’t have to wait anymore. I wanted to tell her that I would never leave her again. I wanted her to believe that I had faith in her. I wanted her back here. I wanted to hold her and never let her go. But she would never know these things.

I knew that I had to go. So I got up and solemnly packed my very few belongings while trying to keep the tears at bay.

I had grown attached to Mrs. Hatono so leaving would be hard and I assumed it would probably be harder still on her but this was something I had to do. I sat in Sherlock’s Chair for one last time. I was holding that special green coat in hers in my hands. The room felt dead.

I heard Mrs. Hatano open the door slightly and walk towards me.

“You can stay” she said softly as she sat down in the chair next to me.

I knew I could. I actually wanted to as the house was still full of elements of Sherlock. Her scent still wafted through the rooms and a ghost cello could be heard playing at night (maybe that was my own imagination making it up though). But yet if I did I would constantly be reminded that she was not here. Not anymore.

“I can’t” sighing as I felt the emptiness throughout the room surround me.

“You’re going with Sherlock?” She asked while observing the coat in my hands.

I stared down at the luxurious coat in my hands. Yes, I thought to myself, this is all I have left of her.

I was reminded of the day that she threw the coat at me claiming it disturbed her aesthetic sense and in so doing she couldn’t think. The ache returned. That part of my heart that was torn in two.

“I never got to ask her why she’s called Sherlock” I focused my attention on the green twirled around my arms in an effort to curb the pain.

Mrs. Hatano smiled painfully “It was short” I turned to look at her trying to anchor myself to her calming voice. “But the time she spent with you must have been precious to her.”  The ache returned and with it a slight tremor of my heart. I was desperately trying to keep myself from crying but it was so hard.

Mrs. Hatano continued “I appreciate what you did for her” Her voice cracked as she said thank you.

The tears started to fall. One, two …. Ten. I reached out and grabbed her into a hug. It was a brief hug. Ic couldn’t let it be longer or I might stay here forever. We pulled away and both tried to keep a brave face up but I could tell that it was hard for her to see me go. Especially now that Sherlock was gone, someone that was very dear to this woman. That voice of mine came back. _And it’s all your fault!_ It declared with all certainty.

I left with a determined mind walking out of that familiar door and through those familiar streets that didn’t feel like home anymore.

It was a beautiful day out but I didn’t feel that anything could be beautiful anymore. Not with Sherlock gone.

I dragged my bags out and turned around one last time to look at what had been my home for a short time. Slowly I turned back and walked away. I found myself walking to a flower shop and buying one single red rose. In a semi trance like sate I ended up at the top of that horrible building again. It was filled with such horrific memories for me that I would never see it in a good light again. I knelt down at the same ledge where I had last seen Sherlock alive and laid the rose down. I pulled myself up and dragged myself out of the memories that threatened to pounce on me.

I walked and walked still in a daze till I got to a quiet bridge overlooking the river. I could hear the trains going by nearby. I held Sherlock’s coat closer and leaned heavily against the rails of the bridge.

A smell so familiar to me wafted into my senses. For a spit second I thought it was Sherlock but then the weight in my arms told me otherwise. It was the coat. It still smelt like her. I pulled my hands up and with it the coat and breathed in deeply.

Once

Twice.

At least I had this tiny piece of her left though it would soon take on other scents and soon I would have only tiny fragments of Sherlock left in broken memories.


	2. Fighting the Voices : Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wato falls into familiar arms.

 

Wato is standing at the bridge staring off mindlessly into the distance. Her mind is elsewhere. She clutches her inherited coat tightly to herself and breathes in deeply the scent that still mingles amongst its soft green folds.  She feels a tremor within itching to break through and send her back into disarray. She is dying slowly as the cavern from within swallows her whole yet again with a blanket of emptiness.

_Why were you so stupid?_

That voice in her head was at it again.

 _You let them lead you on and blind you to what was real and concrete! They only told you lies! How could you believe them so blindly?_ It accused her unfeelingly. It felt like an invisible finger was prodding at her chest demanding answers from her.

Wato Tachibano feels a long tear fall down her cheek. It tickles but at the same time feels like a foreign object on her own face. She shivers and wipes it away. A slight breeze brings an iciness to her breath that was most definitely not present before.

_YOU killed her. And with that you further contributed to more pain for her brother and Mrs. Hatano. You are a useless doctor and an even more useless person!_

She tried to shake the voices away by covering her ears but that was to no avail. They screamed on. She started digging her nails into her head in an effort to dull the pain and guilt that was growing upon every accusation they threw at her. A sharp pain told her that she had torn flesh but she didn’t stop and neither did the voices. Eventually in utter frustration she pulled her hands away from her head and instead grabbed the green coat as if it was her only life jacket. She pulled it closer and let herself breathe in the last traces that Sherlock had left on the coat.

Her knees gave in and she felt herself falling. She was expecting to feel something. A dull pain as her knees hit the ground. Maybe a knock to her head that would lead her to being unconscious. Or maybe sprawling on the ground as she tripped on her own body. But none of this happened. She fell, that much she was certain of, but what she fell into was soft and yet somehow familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short but I'm just getting into the mood and deciding how to go about this.


	3. Phantoms that Look like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A apparition that looks like Sherlock appears or is it really her?

Her eyes flutter open but all she sees is darkness. Her face is pressed up against something. Something that is warm and soft and smells like home. Slightly confused, she frowns to herself and tries to move her arms but they seem to be held in place by something (or someone). She tries to remember where she was earlier but all she can clarify is that she was by the bridge when a sudden panic attack left her in a state and she had fallen but yet not fallen. So where was she now? She feels her heart beat loudly inside her rib cage as panic rears its ugly head.

She tried lifting her head again. It felt extremely heavy (most probably because she had been neglecting sleep since that night, more like sleep had been eluding her). Slowly but surely she was able to hold her head up and as her vision cleared she found herself staring up at either an angel or a ghost. There, not even a face away from her, was a smiling Sherlock. Whether this apparition was part angel or ghost, Wato had no idea but she was still beyond beautiful and almost godlike. Wato blinked and counted to 10 slowly before opening her eyes again, hoping that this horrible dream would just disappear. It was too much like a punishment to put her (who was no longer in this world) right there. But yet when she looked up again, Sherlock was still there but where there had been a smile on her lips earlier, they had now warped into a thin line full of concern and worry. The hands that held her wrist tightened their hold. Wato tried to free herself but this version of Sherlock, though unreal, was stronger than her. Eventually Sherlock gave up the fight and unwillingly let her go. Wato almost collapsed onto the cold stone pavement as her strength gave in. She wanted to be as far away as possible from this weird ghostly vision and tried to gather herself up again. She had obviously lost it again and in more than one way. Not only voices but now she had apparitions to haunt her. She angrily grabbed her suitcase and started walking away.  She tried to ignore the feeling that she was being followed and it seemed to work for a few footsteps but the annoying familiar click clack of expensive heels on the pavement drove her mad. With every click against the ground it felt like another nail was driven deeper into her chest.

She turned around and marched with bag in tow to where the apparition had now frozen a mere meter away. Wato didn’t stop till she was face to face with it.

“Leave me alone” She screeched in a voice so shrill and unearthly that it didn’t sound at all like her own. Sherlock’s hands almost immediately covered her ears. This action startled Wato a little bit. She stared at the fake Sherlock in front of her for a few minutes. Wato reasoned with herself that there were no bruises or scratches on this Sherlock so it could not be her. If she was alive she would definitely have more than a horrible cut but most likely she would be a ghost with the most horrific of wounds scattered across her body and a totally disfigured face and maybe body too.

She pushed Sherlock back with her arms but was surprised when those ghost hands grabbed her own hands and pulled her closer.

“Wato”

She looked up confused. Who had called her name. Frantically Wato began looking around and desperately searching for someone other than the figure before her.

“Wato” Sherlock called out again, this time taking Wato’s small hands in her own and gently pulling her closer. This movement registered as too gentle for a ghost to be doing but how could it be anything else? Sherlock was dead. She saw them drag two body bags away from the scene on a stretcher. There was no possibility that Sherlock could have survived that fall.

Stunned and semi out of any plan of action, Wato just stared into those deep dark brown eyes. One of Sherlock’s fingers was tracing intricate patterns along Wato’s one wrist (coincidentally the hand that had held the gun). It was calming and somehow centered her frenzied thoughts slightly. Those deep caverns that she had got lost in grew warmer and more friendly the more Wato stared. After a full twenty minutes of this staring with the occasional blinks something inside of Wato clicked. Maybe it was the pulse that she felt through their connected hands. Maybe it was the warmth emanating from this other body so close to her. Whatever it was she suddenly jerked as if she had been shocked with a lightning bolt. Ghosts didn’t have a pulse and as far as she knew neither did angels.

 

Wato threw herself at Sherlock and sent her fists flying in every single direction they could possibly go. She landed a few hits on Sherlock who tried to duck from the many punches coming her way. A lucky strike hit Sherlock right on her lower lip. A tiny trickle of blood was the only visible evidence of a “fight”.

“How could you” She wailed out as she threw more punches “I thought you were dead”. Her head was resting against Sherlock’s bosom. Sherlock felt her blouse grow damp with tears. Wato had become hysterical in her state of grief, rage and relief. Sherlock stopped trying to deflect the blows and one by one they hit her, mostly on her shoulders and upper neck. They were weak now and without any threat but it hurt somewhere deep inside of Sherlock to see Wato like this. Eventually the blows subsided as Wato crumpled into Sherlock whilst murmuring words that even Sherlock couldn’t decipher.

Sherlock wrapped her arms protectively around Wato’s heaving, shivering form and let her cry her heart out. She knew it was necessary and she knew that eventually Wato would be ok. Tears are a natural part of recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best with this but I'm annoyed with how many "Wato's and Sherlocks there are.. sorry about this..   
> Also what's with my writing these days. I'm finding it so hard to make words and many of them. Maybe it is this ship (they stress me out). I don't think I'm qualified enough to do Asian ships O.O


	4. Never Again Will I let you go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They will be ok, that much she is certain of."

Wato woke up. She was lying in Sherlock’s bed with Sherlock’s black and gold silk gown wrapped tightly around her as well as a few fluffy blankets. There was no sign of Sherlock though and Wato couldn’t say she liked that fact.

Her head was heavy and her heart felt like it had been left bleeding for hours. Her vision was still hazy from sleep so when she reached out hoping to touch something warm and solid, she was disappointed to only find inanimate objects. She didn’t want to be alone with only blankets. She didn’t want to be alone again.

Not ever again. She didn’t want to ever leave Sherlock out of sight ever again. She couldn’t.

She couldn’t lose her.

As her panic at being alone grew, so did her difficulty to breathe evenly. She felt that erratic insanity enveloping her being. She fought to keep control. Just when she felt that familiar emptiness taking control, two hands grabbed her and jerked her to the side.

Wato’s eyes fluttered open. A face so familiar was radiated by the afternoon sun. She looked like an angel in this light. Wato couldn’t help but just stare as her heart rate slowly normalized itself.

Sherlock had both arms securely placed on Wato’s shoulders. Her expression was warm but there was a touch of coldness in her stare.

Wato suddenly threw herself at Sherlock and was glad when those same arms wrapped themselves around her own body. She felt the tears welling up again and didn’t try to stop them this time. There was no use.

Her fists were tightly clenched against Sherlock’s chest. Wato’s face was nestled against Sherlock’s neck. She could feel a steady heartbeat and it was calming. Calming enough that the rage, fear and heartbreak fell away. Slowly her fists loosened and instead grabbed anything that was close enough. Sherlock’s one hand was wrapped around Wato’s waist, holding her close to herself. The other hand was gently cradling Wato’s head as it shook slightly against her body.

A random unwanted voice shouted back through her consciousness.

_This is not real!_

This caused Wato to pull harder on the silk garment that Sherlock was wearing. As she pulled harder, tiny popping noises could be heard as buttons were undone by the sheer force. Sherlock heard it but didn’t respond she just held Wato tighter.

Wato felt a sudden need to be closer to this person she couldn’t lose again. While tears still fell from her bleary eyes, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s neck. She felt how wet the area was and felt a touch guilty for ruining Sherlock like this. She cautiously looked up at Sherlock only now as she moved closer into Sherlock’s personal space. (Actually there really was no space between them now.)

Sherlock was staring back down at Wato. There was something in the way she was looking back at her that caused Wato to move forward and graze her lips against the perfect chin of Sherlock’s. It elicited a soft moan from Sherlock. Wato smiled slightly at this. She pulled one hand back and ever so nervously inched it closer to Sherlock’s face. She expected her to bat her hand away or for her to suddenly sweep her away again to rest. But nothing happened and soon her fingers were dancing along the smooth lines and curves that was Sherlock’s face. Wato stared on as her hands explored, she was mesmerized.

Her hands were memorizing every single valley and hill as they traced the surface under them. Sherlock had lost her voice long ago or so it seemed to Wato.

As her hands ran over her eyes, Wato shuddered as she remembered that day. The day she had something cold and deadly in her hands and was willing to exterminate this person. She shook herself out of this memory and let her hands fall lower till they reached Sherlock’s lips.

She felt Sherlock let out a tiny gasp as Wato’s hands grazed over the sensitive skin on her lips. Drawn by a strange impulse she felt she needed to feel those lips on her own. She didn’t ask for permission. She couldn’t. She was too scared of rejection.

As their lips met, she felt that cold ice that had taken up its abode in her heart slowly melt. But she needed more.

Images of the past were rushing through her mind as their kiss deepened. Sherlock’s hands had now moved again. Wato felt one reach under her shirt. A shiver was sent running down her spine as the cold fingers laced themselves on her hips. A vision of that unwanted kiss from Moriya flashed though Wato’s consciousness. It resulted in Wato kissing Sherlock back with more fervency and flipping their positions on the bed.

A breathless Sherlock was now looking up at Wato as she lay on her own bed. Wato leaned in with dark eyes full of need and want.

Tortuously slowly, Wato leaned in . She teased Sherlock with her lips as they grazed over every part of Sherlock’s face but her lips. This was her punishment for faking her death.

She heard a few frustrated sighs come from Sherlock and so eventually moved in finally to those perfect lips that were waiting. It felt like heaven. Wato felt like she couldn’t get enough and that sentiment seemed to be shared with Sherlock.

_So much for not friends. Well obviously we are not friends if we are doing this._

The kiss was desperate, full of longing and desire. It lasted for way too long and so when they eventually tore themselves apart they were gasping for breath. Wato collapsed into Sherlock this time content to just be held.

“Never do that to me again”

“Kissing you”

“NO, NO, no , do that to me forever.” She looked up at Sherlock and into those warm eyes. “Just never die or get hurt again!

“I can’t promise that Wato.”

“You have to” Wato pleaded.

Sherlock was silent for a few minutes but finally she spoke again.

“Ok, I promise” and with that she kissed Wato’s head lightly.

Wato had a feeling that everything would be ok now. Yes, she still hated Sherlock a bit for putting her through all that pain and sorrow for nothing. But they would be ok. She would make sure of it. She wouldn’t and couldn’t lose her.

 

She would protect her with her life. Sherlock would have her own set of rules now that was for sure. Wato wouldn’t allow her anywhere if she wasn’t there with her too.

But they would be ok, that much she was certain of.

She smiled to herself as she breathed in that special scent that was so specifically Sherlock and felt the other woman’s hands possessively hold her closer.

_Sherlock, My Sherlock, is safe and home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I only got to finishing this fic now. I feel that my writing is never good enough and sometimes it makes me feel very down but I realize that if I want fanfic I can also make them myself instead of just demanding more from others ;)
> 
> So I shall probably be attempting more fanfics. (Sorry)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented. I greatly appreciate all comments and am so glad when you enjoy the stories I write :)


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